Dead Men in Harlan County
by My2BrownEyes
Summary: Two bodies are found in Harlan County. During the investigation, Deputy US Marshall Raylan Givens happens across two familiar strangers. He knows they have something to do with the case but not in the way he initially suspects. Set after Season 3 of Justified and during Season 7 of Supernatural. Dean W/Sam W/Raylan G/Boyd C
1. Introductions

**Summary:** Two bodies are found in Harlan County. During the investigation, Deputy US Marshall Raylan Givens happens across two familiar strangers. He knows they have something to do with the case but not in the way he initially suspects.

**Main Characters:** Raylan G, Sam W, Dean W, Boyd C

**Timeline**: Justified – Set after the end of Season 3. Supernatural – Set somewhere between episodes 7x10 and 7x16. From the Winchester's POV, (_spoilers!_) Cas & Bobby are dead. Frank is alive.

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Justified nor Supernatural. If I did, they would be far less entertaining and would not be on television. And that would be a great loss to us all.

_I wrote this because I love these characters and wanted to see what would happen if they met. There is no way my writing could even come close to the poetry of Justified, and so I've tried simply to get the voices as authentic as I could. The Winchesters are awesome, and I hope I've done them some justice._

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Chapter 1 - Introductions

"What do we have here?" enquired Deputy US Marshall Raylan Givens walking up to the latest back-woods crime scene, his Kentucky drawl softening the words.

His question was directed at the petite dark-skinned woman in a form-flattering pant suit. Her name was Rachel Brooks, and she was all business as per usual. "Two bodies. Lots of puncture marks. Very little blood," she stated walking him to where the coroner was conducting an initial examination. "Could be a double O.D. Or could be a double homicide."

"Any needles or other paraphernalia?" He adjusted his now-signature Stetson hat trying to block out the sun from his dark brown eyes.

"Nope," US Marshall Brooks answered. "That's why we're leaning towards homicide." It was usually homicide in Harlan County, though they didn't often find bodies. "Most likely they were killed elsewhere and then dumped here."

Marshall Givens squatted down to get a closer look, his right thumb fiddling with his lower lip. "Let's make sure we get a tox screen."

The coroner nodded then began her initial findings. "Preliminary exam suggests these two died at least 36 hours ago. Weird thing is, there's no hypostasis." She explained further after noticing the blank stares. "Blood usually pools at the body's lowest points within 6 hours after death. But there isn't any as far as I can tell. It's like the blood has been drained from the body. I'll know more when we get them back to the lab."

Raylan nodded and straightened out his 6-foot frame. "Do we know who they are?"

Rachel consulted her notes. "IDs say they are Justin Theroux and Mary Jane McCoy. Mary Jane is from Harlan County, and Justin is from Memphis. Two hikers found them and called it in. I don't think we'll get any leads from them."

"Memphis, huh?" Raylan's eyes searched the distance for a moment while he thought on that. "We thinking it's drug related?"

"Yep," the younger Marshall replied.

"Guess I better talk to Boyd then."

Rachel smiled hearing the complete lack of enthusiasm in Raylan's voice. She was just glad she didn't have to go with him. Although Boyd Crowder claimed to no longer be affiliated with the KKK, the knowledge that he had been was enough to make her want to knock him silly. "Good luck," she replied pleasantly as Raylen walked back to his car.

xxxx

Sam and Dean Winchester had been driving back towards the mid-west after chasing down a particularly mean ghost that had been attached to a Claddaugh ring. It was a nice, old-fashioned hunt, a welcome distraction from the current apocalypse. Now that the ring was destroyed, Dean had started brooding on the Leviathan again.

The brothers had stopped in Lexington to grab something to eat, but now Dean really wanted a beer and to call Frank. Surely the techno-wiz had some information on monster leader Dick Roman by now. He pulled the crap car they were currently using into a place called Johnny's Bar without consulting his younger brother. For once, Sam didn't complain. Honestly, he was too tired. Between the Leviathan and Bobby's death and the periodic hallucinations of Lucifer, he decided he could use a bit of alcohol, too.

The place was nothing special – a dark space with neon signs advertising various brands of beer. A few tables were occupied, but it was generally empty. The young men walked to the bar and sat. The pretty blonde behind the counter smiled warmly at them and asked what were they having. She had kind of a '70's Farah Fawcett vibe about her. Dean gave her his full-on charming smile. "Two beers please. Whatever you have on tap."

Her smile widened as she started fulfilling their order. The shorter one who had spoken kept smiling at her. He was cute with his short blondish hair and green eyes; there was no mistaking it. And it wasn't hard to imagine a woman giving in to his charms. The other one, quieter, taller, and with longer hair, was less obvious, but she caught him sneaking a couple of glances at her. It was nice to know she still had it. She set the beers on the table in front of them.

"It's always nice to see new faces. Where might y'all be from?"

"Kansas originally," Dean answered. "But we travel a lot."

"You just passin' through?"

"Yep. Though we might be persuaded to stay a little longer."

"Uh-huh. And does this one ever talk?" she asked, tilting her head at Sam.

"Yeah," Sam answered smiling, showing off his dimples. "I talk."

"Usually, I can't get him to shut up. Must be your beauty that has him all tongue tied." She chuckled at that. It was all the encouragement Dean needed. "So…" There was no name tag to help him.

"Ava."

"Ava," Dean repeated, enjoying the name in his mouth. "What a lovely name."

A lean man came walking from the back room, his dark hair sticking up slightly from where it began high upon his forehead. "Ava, darlin', I sense strangers in our midst. Who's that you're talkin' to?"

"Don't know. They haven't offered their names yet." The man put his arm around the bartender affectionately. Of course she had a boyfriend.

"Well, we should remedy that, shouldn't we? I'm Boyd Crowder. You've already met Ava." He stopped expectantly.

Something about the man put Dean and Sam on alert. "I'm Dean. This here is Sam." The older brother was careful not to give their last names or their relationship.

"Nice to meet you," Sam nodded.

"They're originally from Kansas," Ava offered.

"You're a long way from home." Boyd seemed friendly enough. There was certainly nothing in his demeanor that should have put them on edge. Still, he had a directness and confidence that most people lacked.

Ava continued the conversation. "They travel a lot."

"I see."

"We were on a hunting trip," Dean offered. It wasn't a lie. Sam shot a quick, questioning look at his brother but decided the information was harmless enough.

"Catch anything?"

"Yep," Sam smiled slightly and took a drink of his beer. It was nice to win. They may not have saved the world…yet…again…but at least they had helped a family from getting killed.

"Is there good hunting around here?" Dean asked, a twinkle in his green eyes. This was enough of a distraction for now.

Boyd thought for a moment, trying to get a read on Dean. "Depends on the game, I suppose."

"Oh, we like dangerous game," Dean offered. "The kind with claws and teeth." He glanced at Ava.

"But not the Most Dangerous Game," Sam chuckled, knowing Dean and the others probably wouldn't get the joke. He was a little surprised to see Boyd's smile widen.

"Well, I'll sleep better tonight knowing you two aren't planning on hunting us for sport."

Sam suddenly found the lanky man in front of him far more interesting.

Just then, harsh sunlight spilled into the bar and slowly retreated as the door to the parking lot opened and closed. Boyd's face became more serious as he looked at the person who had just walked in. It had been such a quiet day so far. He sighed quietly. Sometimes Boyd really hated seeing that Stetson.

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_And thus ends Chapter 1. There will be 5 chapters total. I'll post a new one every 3-5 days or so._

_Thank you for reading! Reviews are appreciated._


	2. Loose Lips

_Thank you to everyone who put this on their story alerts! And a big thank you to LMoonshade for the encouragement._

_And now on with the story..._

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Chapter 2 – Loose Lips

"Boyd, may I have a word?" the tall man asked loudly walking towards the four-some and taking off his Stetson. US Marshall Raylan Givens was here on official business, but he still glanced around to see if his father was present. Then he remembered that Arlo was in jail.

"Ah, if you gentlemen will excuse me for just one moment…" Boyd Crowder turned and stepped closer to his…friend? Former friend? Childhood friend…and away from Sam, Dean, and Ava. "Raylan. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Two bodies were found near Grays Knob. I was wonderin' if you knew anything about that."

"And why would I know anything about that?"

"They had puncture marks, and the deaths look suspicious."

"Now, Raylan, how come whenever you find a suspicious death you come knocking on my door?"

"Well, gee, Boyd, maybe that's 'cause you usually have something to do with it."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Raylan was clearly a lawman, and Boyd seemed to be his Usual Suspect. Best thing for them to do would be to sit quietly and let it play out.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I have no idea what you are talkin' about."

"Oh, come on! Two bodies with multiple puncture marks that look to have been made by the mother of all needles?" After a questioning look, the Marshall added, "They were bigger than normal needle marks. Don't see why anyone would stick themselves with something that big. And there was a distinct lack of blood in their bodies."

"The bodies were exsanguinated?" Sam spoke before his brain could stop him. Crap. He tried to ignore the angry look his brother threw him.

Raylan stared at the man who had spoken. His eyes narrowed as he took in the long hair and sideburns, the tall frame, and the tiredness and slight nervousness in the eyes. "Exsanguinated," the Marshall repeated slowly. "That's an awfully large word."

"It means drained of blood," Boyd explained with a slight upturn in tone as though he were speaking to a child.

"I know what it means. What I want to know is, who are you, and why are you so interested?"

Boyd continued to answer. "Oh, well, that there's Sam. He's a hunter."

"Yeah," Dean added. "Plus he watches those procedural cop shows all the time." Sam wondered why everyone was talking for him. "You know, the kind where they show the autopsies and…stuff?" Dean paused. This Boyd guy and the lovely Ava already knew their first names. Sure they were supposed to be dead, but he certainly didn't want to give out any more truthful information than he had to. "He's just fascinated by that stuff. Aren't you…, Honey?" What the hell just came out of his mouth?

Sam's head whipped around to look at his brother. Dean's eyes begged him to just go along with it. Sam turned back to the man holding the hat. "Um, yeah. Can't get enough. Sorry. Didn't mean to intrude." He turned back to his beer. What next? Sam automatically began squeezing the semi-old wound in his palm to ensure Lucifer wouldn't make an unwanted appearance.

The lawman stepped closer and reached into his jacket. "I'm Deputy US Marshall Raylan Givens." There was the familiar flash of the badge that Sam and Dean had both done hundreds of times. "Who's your…companion?"

"I'm Dean. And we prefer…" Shit. Shit. Shit. "…partners." He smiled thinly.

Something was off about these two. It wasn't that they were gay. He didn't care a lick about that. There was a trace of nervousness in their eyes and a tension in their shoulders he didn't like. The one with the large vocabulary kept massaging one of his hands. If Raylan had had a Spidey-sense, these two would have been setting it off. "And where were you two yesterday?"

Sam answered before anyone else could. "Durham, North Carolina. We were there for four days. Left early this morning. I've got the receipt to our hotel room in the car if you'd like to see it." It was easy to sound earnest as it was the truth. Although considering that the credit card they had used was under the name Luke Cassidy, he really hoped the Marshall wouldn't want to examine it.

Raylan looked him up and down. He and his companion, no, partner sure looked familiar.

"Deputy US Marshall Givens," Ava started, "unless you want a drink, I do believe it's time for you to leave."

"Now, Ava," the Marshall began.

She continued as though he hadn't said anything. "Do you want a drink or not?"

Raylan clenched his jaw in frustration. "No," he finally said through gritted teeth.

"Then shoo." She said this with a small waive of her hand as though he were a small dog. "Go on now."

He hesitated and then pointed in their general direction. "I'll be back."

Boyd looked amused. "Be sure to bring an arrest warrant next time."

Raylan gave one last look to the two strangers and left.

"Honey?" mouthed Sam incredulously as Ava and Boyd were watching the Marshall leave. Dean just gave him a we-both-did-stupid-things-so-drop-it look.

Once the door closed behind Raylan, Boyd turned to Sam and Dean. "Please forgive my forwardness, but I do believe you just lied to a Deputy US Marshall."

Sam used one of his innocent looks. "What makes you say that?"

"Because homosexuals do not look at Ava the way you two were doin' not 10 minutes ago," Boyd noted.

"I wasn't," Sam started to protest.

"Oh, please, Sugar," Ava started. "I saw you sneaking glances. It's okay. I found it rather flattering," she added when a look of guilt crossed his face. The guilt transformed into a faint blush.

"I sense you've been in trouble with the law."

Dean chuckled. "Right back at ya, man."

"Raylan and I have a long and…ah…sordid history. But I'm more interested in yours."

"Let's just say we've had a few run-ins and leave it at that. We don't want any trouble. We just want to finish our beers, and then we'll be on our way."

"Dean, they were exsanguinated," Sam reminded his brother. "And they had puncture marks. We've got to at least check it out."

"Damn it, Sammy." Sam replied with his classic bitch face. To which Dean replied, "Fine…Bitch." And Sam responded, "Good…Jerk." And Boyd asked, "Exsanguinated? Would one of you care to tell me why that's so important?"

Another silent exchange occurred between the two men before the taller one spoke. "Our sister," he began. "She was murdered. That's why we were in North Carolina. The m.o. is the same – large puncture marks and drained of blood. Sounds like her killer could be here." It scared Sam sometimes how adept he was at lying. But it was a skill that served him well. He just hoped these two bought it.

"And obviously," Dean picked up the thread, "we'd like to find him, preferably before the police do. It's a matter of family honor," he added, figuring rural Kentucky was a prime place for people to take the law into their own hands.

"So you _are_ hunting the Most Dangerous Game," Boyd observed. "Well, seeing how it's your sister, I can't say as I blame you."

"Neither can I," Ava chimed in. She had taken the law into her own hands before when she killed her abusive husband with a shotgun.

Sam turned on his puppy-dog eyes. "Do you know the place where they found the bodies? Do you think you can take us there?"

"I suppose I could. Question is, why should I?"

Dean locked eyes with Boyd. "Because we want to stop this monster. And if we don't, Ava's beautiful body could be the next one found." He let the words sink in. "We can stop him. We just need to be sure it's him."

Boyd looked at his girlfriend who nodded once. Turning back to the brothers, he simply said, "Well alright then. I think I know someone who can help."


	3. Seeking Evidence

**Disclaimer - **Justified & Supernatural are not mine.

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Chapter 3 – Seeking Evidence

The US Marshall's office in Lexington, Kentucky, was located in the same federal building as the courthouse. Raylan Givens had just sat down at his desk when Chief Deputy Art Mullen called him into his office.

The Chief's walls were full glass windows that allowed him to look out over the deputies working at their desks. Raylan went in, closed the door, and stood expectantly. Art motioned to one of the two chairs facing his desk. Raylan sat down, not quite sure what to expect. With the Chief, it could be a rant, a lecture, an emotional check-up, or an order.

"You went to see Boyd Crowder?"

"Yep."

"You learn anything?"

Raylan shook is head slowly. "Nope. Boyd claimed he knew nothin' about it."

"You believe 'im?"

"Yeah, actually I do. But there were two strangers in the bar. Younger guys. They looked damn familiar." Raylan's eyes narrowed as he recalled the memory. "Dean and Sam. Claimed they were lovers on a hunting trip."

Art raised his eyebrows. "Well that's a new one. You believe _them_?"

"I don't know. Somethin' about 'em felt off. But assuming they weren't lyin' about being in North Carolina up until this morning, they didn't have anything to do with this."

"Well, let's concentrate on what we do know." Art kept talking then, but Raylan had stopped paying attention. He was going over the crime scene, what had happened in Johnny's Bar, and the details of the case in his mind. Every so often a word or phrase from Art would drift into Raylan's consciousness. "…Miami scumbags thinking they…running guns up…back roads like we wouldn't…20 Colt .45's, a handful of Winchester rifles …"

Raylan's focus shot up to the Chief. "What did you say?"

"Mostly AK-47's."

He shook is head. "Before that."

"Uh," Chief Mullen looked down at his list, "20 Colt .45's…"

"After that," Raylan said impatiently, his gaze intensifying.

"Winchester rifles?"

"Winchester," he repeated and immediately got up to leave.

"Somethin' you wanna tell me?" the Chief called after him.

"Not yet." Raylan immediately went to the desk of Deputy Tim Gutterson.

Tim had been a sharpshooter in the US military before joining the Marshall service. As we watched Raylan coming towards him out of the corner of his eye, he almost wished he was back behind the scope of a long-range rifle. His colleague obviously wanted something, and Tim was tired of always being the one he asked.

"Tim, I need you to run a couple of names. Dean and Sam Winchester."

The younger Marshall just looked at him. He could say no. He'd done it before. Of course he'd just end up running the names anyway. Raylan had that affect on people for some reason. They always ended up doing what he wanted. Well, the good guys did anyway. The bad ones usually just tried to kill him. 'Course that didn't mean he couldn't make it difficult for the man. One of the perks of the job was giving Raylan Givens a hard time.

"Well?"

"You do realize I have my own work to do."

"You do?" Raylan shot back. "And here I thought they just paid you to sit around and look pretty."

"Well I suppose I am the pretty one," Tim deadpanned as he tried to decide how much energy he was willing to expend on yet another lost cause. "They connected to the bodies found this morning?"

"Don't know yet. Maybe."

"So just following another Raylan Givens hunch then."

That made Raylan scowl. "When have I ever led you wrong?"

"Do you really want a list? 'Cause I can put that together for you. Now would you like that before or after I run these names?"

"Let's go with after." He started to walk away.

"You know you can do this yourself," Tim called after him.

"What would be the fun in that?"

xxxx

Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, and Boyd Crowder drove up to the crime scene. Dean had insisted they take his car. The brothers didn't like to go hunting without their gear, and it wasn't the type of gear most people considered normal. As they walked to the police tape, they saw a man in a Sheriff's uniform walking to meet them.

"Boyd, I thought I made it clear we were even now," came a soft but determined voice.

Before the lanky man could answer, the two brothers had stopped in their tracks, and a single name escaped Dean's lips. "Bobby?" His voice almost cracked with the last syllable.

Boyd turned around to look at the two hunters. The world-weary men they had been was gone, replaced by eyes filled with pain, fear, and a bit of hope. He didn't know that the Sheriff was the spitting image of the man they had recently lost, a man who had helped raise them as though they were his own.

"I'm sorry?" the Sheriff asked confused.

"This is Sheriff Shelby," Boyd found himself explaining. "Sheriff, these men recently lost their sister. They think the man that killed her was also responsible for this." He gestured towards the crime scene. "This isn't for me. It's for them."

"Shelby?" Sam finally asked in confusion.

"That's right. Shelby just recently became Sheriff. Didn't you, Shelby?"

"That's right."

"How long ago?" Dean prodded. It wouldn't have been the first time one of them had come back from the dead. Hell, Bobby had died and been resurrected within a few hours during the last day of the Apocalypse.

"About a month maybe."

"Before that," Boyd continued, "Shelby worked security at the local mine. That's where we met."

"When?" Sam asked.

"Must have been a year or two ago."

A year or two – pre-Leviathan and Bobby's death. A Shapeshifter, the other known option, would have surely turned into someone else during that length of time…so just some weird fluke, another cosmic punch to the gut. The brothers began to breathe again. Sam looked down, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. When they both looked back at Boyd, their faces had changed back to the hard looks they had worn earlier.

"Sorry…Shelby?" Sam asked, offering his hand. "You look a lot like someone we recently lost. It just took us by surprise." The Sheriff shook the young man's hand. "I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean."

Dean just nodded. He put his hand in his jacket pocket, running his fingers over Bobby's flask. God, he missed Bobby. And, he just realized, he hadn't called Frank yet. That would have to wait. First they had to determine if this was an actual hunt or not.

The younger brother continued, using his innocent face and puppy-dog eyes to full effect, "Like Boyd said, we think the person who did this might be the same one who killed our sister. We were really hoping to get a look at the crime scene, maybe figure out who did this."

Sheriff Shelby looked from one brother to the other. The shorter one with the shorter hair had a hand in his pocket. Although he seemed okay now, the Sheriff had been affected by the man's grief only moments ago. The taller one who could have passed for one of them Seattle types was looking at him expectantly. "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt." And he led them across the police tape.

Sam and Dean immediately went into hunter mode, searching the ground for any evidence of vampires or other blood-sucking supernatural beast. All the while, they asked the Sheriff questions about the condition of the bodies, the locations of the puncture marks, the theories that had been discussed amongst the law enforcement officers. Neither man could bring himself to look at not-Bobby. It was easier to concentrate on the job.

Dean really hoped they could do this without having to examine the body. After their run in with the Marshall, he didn't want to have to con his way into the morgue.

"Dean," Sam called suddenly.

"You find something, Sammy?"

Sam answered by holding up a long white object flecked with bits of red. The three other men walked forward to examine it. A tooth, long and sharply pointed at the end, lay in Sam's hand.

"What is it?" not-Bobby asked.

Sam and Dean gave each other half-smiles. They'd be killing something, most likely some _things_, soon. "Evidence," Dean replied.

"I should turn that over, share with the other agencies."

"You do that," the younger brother agreed, dropping the tooth into not-Bobby's hand. Sheriff Shelby gave them all a look and walked to his car.

"Boyd," Dean said a little too enthusiastically. "Tell us, have you had any new neighbors come into town recently? Maybe they took over an abandoned house or are seen mostly at night. There'd be at least three of them, maybe no more than ten. Any of this ringing any bells?"

Boyd thought for a moment. "As I recall, there have been rumors that people have moved into Mags Bennett's old place. But I have yet to make their acquaintance."

"Consider yourself lucky."

"I take it these are the men who killed your sister?"

Sam ignored the question. "Where is Mags Bennett's old place?"

"Well, now, I'm not sure I should divulge such information until I understand exactly what's going on."

"Believe me, Boyd. You're better off not knowing." Dean was feeling much better now that he knew dead vamps were in his future.

"I…see…I am not…comfortable with the amount of glee you are displaying right now."

Sam, ever the voice of reason, spoke. "I get that. I do. We just want to make sure no one else dies here. Just tell us where we can find these new neighbors. We'll have a little discussion with them and then be on our way. It'll be like this never happened."

"It is a little ways. Perhaps we best get back in the car," Boyd suggested. "It'll be easier to give you directions as we drive."

The brothers looked at each other. Dean nodded. "If he wants to come, let him come." Sam sighed and nodded his agreement. He just hoped they weren't about to get Boyd Crowder killed.

* * *

_I couldn't put these together and not acknowledge that the great Jim Beaver is in both. Please forgive me if you thought it too sappy or forced. (I'm really hoping we'll see more of Shelby in Season 3.) _

_Until next time..._


	4. Monsters

**Disclaimer - **Justified & Supernatural are not mine, and I anxiously await new episodes of both series.

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Chapter 4 – Monsters

Raylan Givens sat at his desk staring at Rachel Brooks' notes from the crime scene. Suddenly, a tan folder landed on top of the pages he had just been reading. "What's this?"

US Marshall Tim Gutterson was standing in front of him. "Dean Winchester and his little brother Sam. Wanted for a wide number and variety of crimes from credit card fraud to grave desecration to multiple homicide. If I had known you were making me look up ghosts, I might have put up more of a fight."

"Ghosts?"

"Between the two of them, they've died five times. Older brother Dean's first death came in 2005 after he was suspected of torturing and killing several women in California. Then in 2008, both brothers were captured by the FBI in Colorado and died in a helicopter crash. And finally, just last year, after a multi-city killing spree, they were shot by a sheriff in Iowa."

Raylan opened the file. Staring up at him were the same two men he had seen in Johnny's Bar earlier that day. "The sheriff killed them?" He looked up to see Tim nod. "And they're sure about that?"

Tim nodded again. "…And watched them burn. Their bodies were cremated according to the FBI report."

Raylan nodded. "Thanks, Tim."

"So much for your hunches."

"Don't count my hunches out yet," he said, grabbing his coat and heading out the door.

xxxx

By the time the car pulled up to Mags Bennett's old place, the sun was already low in the sky. Sam and Dean wouldn't have time to return their guide to Johnny's Bar, not if they wanted to get this done today. If they waited till after dark, the Vamps might not be there. And with that Marshall possibly sniffing around, they didn't want to chance staying another day. No, they'd have to take care of it now.

When Dean suggested that Boyd stay in the car, it sounded more like a command. That didn't sit well with the ex-convict. And though he appreciated the concern, he was going to accompany them. There wasn't time to argue. And there wasn't time to be concerned about his reaction when the trunk was opened and their hunting equipment was in full view.

"Well, damn," was all Boyd could think of to say as he looked at the various guns, knives, and bottles of liquid on display. Sam and Dean both took out machetes, Dean offering his to their guest. "I believe I'll just stick with this," he replied while pulling out the gun he had tucked into the back of his jeans' waistband.

"That ain't gonna work on what we're up against," Dean told him.

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

Sam responded, "Vampires," and waited for the usual reaction of disbelief. After a moment of silence, he continued. "The bodies were drained of blood. That was the first clue. The puncture marks were the second. And the tooth we found at the crime scene verified it."

"The only way to kill a Vamp," Dean explained, "is by cutting off its head."

"No stakes through the heart?" Boyd asked incredulously.

"That'll only piss 'em off. But you're welcome to try." When Boyd still wouldn't take the machete being offered, Dean shrugged. "Suit yourself. But stay close. We don't have time to babysit your ass." The hunter looked back into the trunk, his gaze automatically resting on the spot where Castiel's trench coat lay hidden. He quickly fought down the conflicting emotions he always had whenever he thought about his angel. _The _angel, he corrected himself. Cas was yet another casualty he tried to never think about. Dean closed the trunk, the metallic thud helping to refocus his mind on the task at hand.

The three men started walking towards the house when another car drove up. Raylan Givens stepped out and walked towards them with his hand resting on his gun. "Ava told me I'd find you here. It's a good thing you told her where you were going." He assessed the situation, noting Boyd's gun in his hand and the other two holding a machete each.

Boyd hated to admit it, but he was relieved to see his old childhood friend. "Somethin' we can help you with Raylan?"

The Marshall kept looking from one brother to the other. "Perhaps one of your new friends can tell me how it is that I'm standing here talking to two dead men."

Dead men…That could only mean one thing. "You pulled our file. Of course you did, because that's all you sorry-ass lawmen know how to do." And now their enemies would probably know where they were. Great.

"Dean," Sam chastised. "Look, Marshall, we don't want any trouble."

Raylan almost couldn't believe his ears. "Oh, really."

Dean's eyes glanced at the setting son. Instinctively, Sam's eyes did the same then moved back to the Marshall with innocence and concern. "…And we know you have questions. We just need to take care of this one thing, and then we'll go with you wherever you want and answer any questions you may have."

"You're damn right you will. Only we're going to do that first."

Dean had had enough. "Look, Marshall, when that sun goes down, the body count 's going up. The only question is whose."

"Is that a threat?" His hand shifted on his gun as his eyes carried their own threat to the hunter.

Before Dean could answer, the door to the house opened, and a tan young woman in short shorts stepped out onto the porch. She looked at each of them with dark eyes and asked, "What do we have here?"

"I'm Deputy US Marshall Raylan Givens. Please go back inside, ma'am. I've got this under control."

The woman smiled and then called over her shoulder. "Hey, come out here. Looks like we won't need to hunt for dinner tonight." She started walking towards the four men. "It just got delivered to us."

The door opened again, and two men and another woman walked out onto the porch. "I love delivery. And look, there's one for each of us," one of the men, a red head, said.

The first woman started walking towards Raylan. Dean moved as though to cut her off, but the Marshall pulled out his gun and pointed it at the older Winchester. The woman caught his eye as she smiled broadly, displaying her perfectly normal teeth. Then, quite suddenly and completely unexpectedly, a second set of teeth slid over the first. Raylan blinked. They were still there, numerous and pointy and obviously lethal.

"What the hell?" Raylan asked as she walked swiftly towards him. He shot her once in the chest…twice. She kept coming. He shot her in the head, making it jerk back with the sudden impact, but she still kept coming.

The other vampires had descended upon the other men by that time. Dean and Sam were ready. Their machetes slashed at the vampires that had come towards them. Boyd's gunshots were as useless as Raylan's had been.

The second female vamp targeted Dean, avoiding the machete with ease and delivering a punch to his gut that sent him crashing to the ground. The hunter rolled left as she descended on him and quickly got to his feet.

Sam was dealing with the taller male. He, too, started out delivering a couple of swipes of the machete. However, Sam quickly realized that wasn't going to work. The red-haired vamp took a couple of swings at the younger hunter. Sam was more nimble than expected, dodging the oncoming fists and then kicking the monster off his feet. With a swift downward motion, the head was gone. Sam stood up to assess the situation. First glance was to his brother. Dean was fighting a buxom woman. He was handling it. Second glance was to Boyd Crowder.

The vampire had him pressed against the car door, moonlight highlighting the texture of the afro the monster wore. Boyd's eyes grew larger as a mouthful of sharp teeth lunged at him. He didn't want to see, but his lids would not shut. And then suddenly the inhuman head rolled to one side and kept rolling until it was no longer on the thing's body. Standing behind it, he saw the long hair and earnest but determined eyes of Sam Winchester. The hunter nodded, silently asking if he was okay. Boyd nodded back in thanks.

There was a grunt behind Sam as the creature Dean had just punched stumbled towards the house. The older brother seized the advantage. "Damn vampires," he muttered after he'd decapitated his foe.

Another gunshot brought everyone's attention to the one fight still being raged. Raylan was now trading punches with the first vampire. He was losing.

"Marshall!" Dean yelled and tossed the machete towards him. It clattered on the ground.

Raylan punched the dead woman in the face and scooped up the big knife. Bringing it up with both hands like a baseball bat, he swung the blade in a downward arc across the tan throat. Her head hit the ground with a satisfying thud.

"What the hell…?" Raylan asked.

"Vampires. We did try to warn you," Dean pointed out.

Everyone stood in silence for a moment, the newbies trying to process what had just happened and the hunters giving them time to do so.

"What happens now?" Boyd wondered aloud.

"Now we search the house, look for any survivors, human or otherwise. We let the humans go and kill everything else."

Raylan ran a hand across his forehead. Then pointing at Dean with the machete, he informed the hunter that they'd be searching the house together. Turning to Boyd and Sam, he ordered them to stay out here and make sure no one else left.

Sam handed his machete to his older brother. "Be careful in there."

Dean smirked. "I always am."

The lawman and the fugitive walked towards the house, bodies tensely prepared for whatever might be coming next. Dean entered the house first, eyes darting around the dark interior. Raylan was on his heels. With near-military precision, they went through each area of the house. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all clear. They silently headed upstairs and continued to search room by room. Again, everything was empty. They headed back downstairs and continued down into the cellar. There they did find one person, but he had been drained of the last of his blood just before sunset. They had been too late. Dean cursed under his breath and checked the body to be sure he'd remain dead.

Outside, Sam waited impatiently for his brother.

Boyd could sense the other man's nervousness. "How long have y'all been doin' this?"

"All our lives," Sam answered truthfully.

"That's a hell of a way to grow up." He thought for a moment remembering the violence that had marked his own upbringing. Still, that was different. That was just people. "I suppose your parents did the same?"

"Demon killed my mom. Dad took revenge on any monster he could get ahold of. He taught us to do the same." There was a note of regret and another of anger in his voice.

"Yes. We are as our fathers' mold us to be." Boyd thought of his own dad. "And yet, we are not them. And they despise us because of it."

"It certainly felt that way sometimes."

"Felt. Past tense. Your father is no longer with us?" He paused until Sam acknowledged the statement to be true. "Mine passed as well. It was one of the best things to ever happen to me."

The hunter suddenly found himself missing his father.

The men fell silent, their gaze moving from the door they hoped would open soon to the heads and bodies in front of them and back again. Sam always hated the waiting.

* * *

_The fight scene was really short I know. If anyone has any tips or suggestions on how to write better ones, I'd love to read them._

_There's just 1 more chapter to go. So until next time, (sing it with me) "Carry on my wayward son..."_


	5. Because Somebody Has To

**Usual Disclaimer** - Justified & Supernatural aren't mine

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Chapter 5 – Because Somebody Has To

Raylan and Dean had found no survivors in the house, living or undead. They walked back out into the night in silence, shaking their heads in answer to the unspoken question that was in the eyes of Sam and Boyd.

"So this is normal for you?" Raylan finally asked.

The younger hunter answered. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"I have no idea how I'm going to explain all this."

"You're not," Dean informed him. "Call them for the dead guy in the house. That's fine. But the vamps…? We'll take the bodies and burn them if we can, bury them if we can't."

Something clicked in the Marshall's mind. "Grave desecration?"

"No. New graves," Sam explained. "We only disturb existing graves if we have to salt and burn the corpse." Then he added, "Gets rid of ghosts."

"Vampires? Ghosts? Anything else real that I should know about? Maybe Frankenstein?"

"Frankenstein was the doctor," Sam corrected quietly.

Dean was tired and just wanted to be back on the road and away from here. "Try demons, angels, werewolves, witches." His voice started to rise. "Try the god-damned pagan gods. Try the freaking Apocalypse. Try Leviathan!"

"Dean!"

Dean began to breathe again. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm himself down.

If they hadn't seen what they had just seen, Boyd and Raylan would have thought these guys were nuts. But they had seen it. Vampires. And they couldn't un-see it.

"How did you die?" Raylan asked.

"Which time?" Dean shot back.

"After the killing spree."

Dean chuckled. "That wasn't even us. It was a couple of Leviathan douche-bags pretending to be us."

"So that wasn't you killing all of those people?"

"No," Sam answered.

"And I'm just supposed to believe that?" the Marshall challenged.

"Raylan, after what we just saw, I'd say the limits of what we'd be able to believe just grew exponentially," Boyd pointed out. "We'd best get these bodies taken care of. I know you said you'd prefer to burn them," he said to the two hunters, "but I think that might attract undue attention. Now I noticed you had a couple of shovels in that trunk of yours. I think we should put those to good use."

The men exchanged silent looks and nodded, even Raylan. This stuff did not happen in real life. Albino drug-crazed molesters and stupid back-woods hillbilly criminals happened. And that was quite enough for one man to deal with, thank you very much, he thought as he gave the machete he had been holding to Sam.

Two bodies and two heads went into the Winchester's car. The other two bodies and heads went into the Marshall's car. Raylan ordered Dean to ride with him. He didn't want the Winchesters taking off before this was finished. Boyd rode with Sam.

Raylan and Dean's drive was mostly silent, an undercurrent of distrust and contained rage settling beneath them. Every so often, one would look at the other, sizing him up, mentally determining who would win in a fight.

Raylan spoke first. "Grave desecration to kill ghosts." That sounded weird coming out of his mouth. "Credit card fraud?"

"Hunting doesn't exactly come with a salary and benefits." It was a careful answer, one that wouldn't hold up in court.

"Impersonating an officer?"

"We have to get access to witnesses, crime scenes, and bodies somehow."

"The torture and murder of those women?" When there was no answer, he added, "The first time you died."

"Not me again. Shapeshifter."

"Well, that's convenient," Raylan noted.

"Not when it's your face they're wearing. But if you read the case file, you'd know their husbands were the original suspects. That's how we caught the case. One of them was in two places at once. The shapeshifter 's dead. Score one for the home team," Dean ended sarcastically.

There was a long pause as the Marshall mentally sifted through the new information. "Why?" Raylan finally asked.

"Why what?"

"Why do it?"

Dean thought for a while. "Somebody has to."

Raylan nodded. There were times he'd often felt the same. "Wynona my," he struggled to find the right word, "ex-wife says I look for trouble, that I go after people just so I can…I don't know…let off steam? She doesn't get that somebody has to bring these people in, make sure they pay for what they've done."

"Amen, brother. There's nothing quite like sending a demon back to Hell."

"I don't really know anything about that, and I honestly hope I never do." He paused, and his thoughts once again turned to Wynona. The memory a conversation they had had played over again in his head. "She said I was the angriest man she's ever known."

Dean smirked. "She hasn't met me yet."

Raylan raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "Well that's true."

The hunter's mind wandered to the trench coat. "A close friend…my best friend once said I was full of guilt and pain." The smile took on a sad tinge. "Well if that makes me better at ganking monsters, so be it."

"I hate to admit it, but I kinda wish my monsters were as obvious as yours." The anger that had been there before had dissipated. All that was left was silence.

In the other car, silence was the first thing that had left. Sam and Boyd were happily exchanging ideas about free enterprise and the rise of corporate power. It meandered to individual freedom versus security. The topics went down one path, looped back, took another path, and generally flowed without much effort. It was the best conversation either of them had had in a great while. It made Sam almost feel normal.

xxxx

The cars stopped in a wooded area away from where the two human bodies had been found that morning. It wouldn't do to bury the vampires only to have them discovered by people working the homicide.

Dean and Boyd started the digging. They hadn't gotten very far before Boyd made a comment about never in a million years thinking Raylan would be helping him bury a body much less four. The Marshall wasn't amused and suggested his childhood friend hurry up "before the ghost of your brother comes along and haunts you for sleeping with his wife". Boyd reminded him that one Mr. US Marshall Raylan Givens had been the first to share Ava's bed after his brother's demise.

"Our lives suddenly seem less complicated," Sam noted.

"Says the man who slept with a demon…and a werewolf."

"Shut up, Dean."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"And that means it's time for you to take the shovel, little brother."

With two extra men helping, digging the large grave seemed to take very little time to the Winchesters. They dumped the heads and the bodies into the hole they had made and covered it up as best they could.

"So what happens now?" Sam asked, looking at the Marshall.

Raylan used his forearm to wipe his brow. "Now, the two of you get out of here and never come back. If I ever see either of you again, I will take you in."

"Uh, what Raylan means is: Thank you for helping us with this unique problem. Your expertise has helped us save a lot of lives. Now, if we should ever require your particular skill set again, how might we get in touch with you?"

Sam gave Boyd a number where they could be reached and explained that if they couldn't help personally they'd send other hunters that could.

Raylan held his hand out to Dean. "Good luck ganking monsters."

Dean shook the Marshall's hand knowing it hadn't been offered lightly. "Good luck with that whole anger management thing."

The Winchesters got into their beat-up car closing the doors simultaneously. The engine rumbled to life and carried the hunters into the night.

Raylan dropped Boyd off at Ava's house, went back to Mags Bennett's place, and called in the body. He made up some story about how he came to be there and how the folks who had been squatting there got away from him. The other two murders, being so similar, were blamed on them, too. Art didn't buy all of Raylan's story but knew better than to press for the whole truth. Sometimes it was better not to know.

The next day, Tim Gutterson asked about the Winchester file. "For once, my gut was wrong," Raylan announced without looking at him. "And I'd appreciate it if you never remind me of that fact ever again."

Tim smiled, tucking that little piece of information away for the next time Raylan wanted a favor.

The End

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_Thank you all for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed it._


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